


Unexpected

by A_King_Alone



Category: My Bloody Valentine (1981)
Genre: F/M, Slightly creepy themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:27:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22153231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_King_Alone/pseuds/A_King_Alone
Summary: It's the 60's baby ~
Relationships: Harry Warden/Reader
Comments: 9
Kudos: 44





	1. Night.01

You were just a normal person, nothing particularly special about you. You went about your daily life, without much of a care. In fact, you felt a bit disconnected from reality, but continued to do your work diligently. So, why you?

It was early February, the cooled air still felt a bit brisk, sending a shiver down your arms, feeling the hairs rise beneath. You pulled your cardigan closer; you got cold easily. As you were walking down to your neighbors house before your scheduled shift at your job, you overheard some older ladies standing near their mailboxes, gossiping or some such.

It caught your attention that there was a mine accident in one of the towns nearby. It was rare, but not unusual. The hazards of working in a mine were very well known. Silently, you hoped everyone turned out to be uninjured and managed to be rescued safely. It may have been a fruitless wish, but you wished it, nonetheless.

You kept walking. It wasn’t much of your concern. It was business as usual that day, nothing out of the ordinary. Valentine’s day was upon the town, but you had no plans. Nobody was interested in you, nor did anybody from the small town you grew up in interest you. You talked about this with your friend while you assisted them for their date.

You thought of how nice it would be to move away somewhere else, to escape from the same old stale scenery you’d grown accustomed to. You worked as a waitress in one of the three diners in the town, every face you saw, you saw every day. You knew what they would order and how they preferred it.

It was incredibly boring.

Usually, you’d have left work before dusk, but you were chosen to settle in with the last of the hourly shift. Your coworkers had plans for their special love interests, dolled up and ready for their beautiful, romantic Valentine’s evenings.

Fortunately, that meant everyone was busy with their plans, so the rest of your shift was you occupying an empty store. You enjoyed the silence. That is, you were, until a few men in business attire entered, bantering and laughing with one another upon entry.

Strangely, you didn’t recognize any of them at all. They were fresh faces. You put on your best charming smile and welcomed them. They sat and ordered some sweets and black coffees.

As you prepared their items for them, you sorta listened in on their conversation. You couldn’t deny that you were curious of these strangers. One of them mentioned the mine from the other town as you brought them their coffees. Not quite what you were interested in hearing, your shoulders sagging a bit.

“Thanks, sweetheart.” You nodded, returning to behind the counter.

“Couldn’t believe it, they tried to blame _me_ for the accident. Are they insane? How could it be my fault? Had to get out of the town, it was driving me nuts.” The man tsk’d as his fellows laughed at his frustrations.

They went on to mention that while rescue was in attempt at this very moment, they hadn’t found anybody at all. That was very unfortunate. It brought down your mood a little bit, knowing that there were people trapped in tunnels underground, probably scared, without food or water… or worse, stuck in the pitch black darkness. How horrific.

With a small, quiet sigh thorough your nose, you brought the gentlemen their sweets they requested, mentioning to them that your diner would be closing soon. They acknowledged it and didn’t overstay their welcome.

After you closed, you set off for your journey on foot back to your home. Your house was about a mile outside of the town. It was your family home, left to you by your deceased parents. You had no siblings nor much of any connection to family members from either side of the family. You preferred to be left alone.

The money you made was only just enough to keep the place together and to have a roof over your head. You figured someday you’d try to get an automobile after saving up, if you could manage it. It’d be a while before then.

The moon was bright as you wrapped your arms around yourself, to ward off the chill of the cold air. As you arrived to your front porch, you noticed something a little unusual. It looked as if your front door were open, just a tad.

Your brow furrowed as you took a quick glance behind you, then surveying your immediate surroundings. It was silent. Surely you couldn’t have forgotten to close the door when you left. Your eyebrows rose. Y'know, you might have forgotten. Sometimes your head floats away into the clouds.

You entered your domicile, closing and locking the door, for sure, behind you this time. It was a cozy home, everything within mostly left untouched from your childhood. Rather dated, but still homely.

You felt like you would enjoy some tea to warm your bones, so you went into your kitchen to prepare some for yourself in a kettle. Leaving it to boil, you ascended the staircase toward your bedroom, where you stopped dead in your tracks at the top.

You closed your bedroom door. You always closed your bedroom door because there was a cold draft in the upper part of the house and you didn’t like it being so cold in your room. Yet, the door was slightly ajar. The hairs on your neck rose with a strange feeling coiling around inside of your stomach.

Your home had nothing of value in it, nothing that a burglar would covet enough to steal from you. The worst of your thoughts were pinned on the idea of a pervert or serial rapist. The closest immediate object for protection available to you was an umbrella.

You frowned, very deeply.

There was a vase on the stand in the hallway where you stood. Your mother adored it. You adored staying alive, so you picked up the vase and slowly tip-toed toward your bedroom.

Instantly, you froze, once you heard a bit of rummaging. _Oh my god_ , you thought, _there’s actually someone in there…_ Dread washed over you, but you wanted to defend your home from creepy perverts. You were the only one you had to protect yourself. You could smash their head in with a vase. No problem, right? …Right?

With a big inhale, you kicked your door open, frantically flipping the light switch after the fact. The sight before your eyes was the very last thing you’d have ever expected to see as the light flooded the contents on the room. You dropped the vase.

It was a man. A man with a miners type of outfit slathered in dirt and grime, a gas mask covering the entirety of his skull. And there was blood, splattered in random patterns upon it. He was attempting to open your window when you burst in, his back slightly turned to you. Two pitch black circular holes met with your frozen position as his mask turned in your direction, neither of you moving.

Downstairs, you heard the tea kettle whistling for your attention and all you could do is blink. You’d never been so afraid in your life, your soles firmly planted right where you were, your lips agape in abject horror.

“I- I need… to…” you sputtered stupidly, your mind broken as you turned away from this someone, this stranger in your house, in your bedroom, who might actually kill you, and you’re damn near sprinting down the stairs as fast as you never thought you could.

 _What am I doing?!_ you thought as you grabbed your own face with your hands, pacing back and forth in the kitchen. _I should be calling the authorities!_ Finally you seemed to get a grasp on the situation and grabbed your telephone on your kitchen table, sliding into one of the chairs. As you were mid-dial, a gloved hand pushed down on the receiver.

Towering over you was the man, again, staring down at you, unmoving.

“Don’t do that.”

You’re suspended in absolute horror and all you can do is swiftly nod, withdrawing your hand quickly from the phone to hold it against your chest, which was rapidly moving with each breath. How did you not notice he came downstairs?

You wanted to speak, you wanted to ask what he wanted, why he was in your house, but your throat was closed. You were so scared that he would hurt you, or molest you, dismember you, torture you, or kill you. Slowly, the masked man bent down onto one knee to be more at level with you as you were trembling like a leaf caught in the breeze.

“Don’t cause any trouble for me. Nod if you understand.”

You nod.

“Good. Didn’t realize this home was occupied, looked kind of old. I need to stay here for the night. Nod if you understand.” His voice was muffled, but gruff and deep in tone, causing another spike of fear within you.

You nod again. Why in the hell did he need to hide in your house? Was he a criminal? He was wearing a miners type of outfit, or so it seemed, you weren’t overly familiar with the appearance of one. He rose to his full height with a sharp inhale. It seemed like he wouldn’t harm you as long as you cooperated with his demands. You hoped that it wouldn’t extend further than this.

His mask tilted as he watched you watching him. You had no idea what to do, feeling your mind bending and cracking to try and cope with the situation.

“W- W- Wou- W-” you began, but you couldn’t get the sentence to exit from your lips at all, sucking in breath to try and ease your panicked body. A noise that sounded like a sharp exhale through the nose came from the mask, somewhat resembling a snort.

The man took the slightest step toward you and you immediately cowered, flinching your eyes shut as you turned away. _God, just please go away…_ you thought, _please don’t hurt me._

You remained like that for a few seconds, hearing only silence around you, turning very slowly as your eyes found themselves drawn toward the masked man again, whom was unmoved from where he stood. You blinked, tears pooling around your lower lids despite you attempting to will them to go away.

If he wasn’t trying to hurt you, perhaps he pitied you for being so pathetic.

Shuffling your gaze around, you sniffled a bit, rising from your kitchen chair in very slow, very deliberate movements while the man continued to just stare at you.

You wouldn’t turn your back to him at all as you moved toward your tea kettle, stopping when you were standing in front of it. His mask followed your general direction as you went. Your chest rose and fell with your panic. You took a deep breath in. Exhale.

“W- … Would you… like some t- tea…?” you hoarsely asked in the tiniest of whispers, your hands finding their way to clasp one another over your heart, thudding so harshly against your ribs.

The man did not move, at all. You hoped he heard you so you wouldn’t have to repeat yourself, your stare trained on him and only him. Nothing happened for a moment.

And then, he nodded.

“O- Okay.”

You really did not want to turn your back to this man, in fear that he would strike you down as soon as you did, take your life and then steal your home to turn into his base for criminal activities. Tears pricked at your eyes once more as you turned toward the kettle on the stove. The warmth granted the ghost of relief. As you prepared the cups of tea, your hands refused to stop shaking, causing the glasses to clink together every so often.

Nothing happened between then and you facing him again.

You turned toward him, unsure if you’d even be able to bring it to him without spilling it or dropping it on the floor. Trying your best to keep a strong grip on the cups, you went toward the table, placing both of the cups down across from one another on the surface with haste.

You took your seat, using every ounce of your willpower to one, not cry, and two, not stare at this terrifying man intruding in your house.

The man entered your view as he sat across from you. For several moments, he only sat there, seemingly watching you as you sipped your own tea. Silently, you wondered if maybe he actually didn’t want to show his face to you. A criminal would think like that, right…? You weren’t sure. You cleared your throat, gently.

“Um… Do you… want me to look away…?”

You weren’t sure why you were even bothering to ask, but you wanted to play this as safely as possible to get out of this situation unscathed and this felt like the best option. The man didn’t respond, for several more moments, causing you to squirm a bit under his seeming scrutiny.

“…No,” he finally answered, his gloved hands removing the helmet, then after, pulling the gas mask off of his head from the back. He set it down on the table as he twisted the hose connected to it from the nozzle, letting the other half fall free to his side.

Genuinely, you were surprised at his appearance. He certainly wasn’t what you had expected, though you were kind of expecting a monster, in all honesty. He looked far more human than what your wild imagination conjured, a bit lengthy dark curly locks, even darker eyes, which weren’t looking at you, but down at the cup of tea you had offered him.

Pinching the tip of his finger, his eyes dark as the night sky suddenly met yours as you were surveying him, pulling the glove off slowly, before doing the same the other. This time, his gaze did not break away until he removed both gloves and set them down on top of his mask.

He picked up the little cup and sipped the tea.

“It’s good,” he commented, the tip of his tongue running over his top lip to catch a bit that had lingered there.

You felt, somehow, the tiniest bit of ease now that he had removed his gear from his person. With the mask, he looked much more terrifying. Or so you had thought for just a moment, until you found his piercing gaze glued to your eyes, nonstop.

His eyes made him look like a feral animal. Ink black. A predator.

You sucked in air audibly, your eyes widening just slightly when you saw one corner of his mouth rise at the noise you just made, that gaze never wavering from your eyes, not for a second. Like a coyote within reach of a delicious piece of meat.

You felt your stomach drop to the center of the earth.

You wanted to run, so badly, and never look back, start over somewhere else. Everything about this felt like a mistake, as if you were being played into the devils hands, being lured willingly to your own demise.

You could feel your breath cooling your lips as you breathed in and out of the gap shallowly, the anxiety making your entire body feel like it was tightly coiling inside of itself, collapsing like a dying star.

And he was smiling, just slightly. At you. This man was not right in the head and this realization was hitting you harder and harder. You were damn-near in tears, visibly trembling out of sheer panic and it seemed that sight of it brought him joy, after he had broke into your home, causing you terror. Was he… enjoying it…?

“W- Wh- Wh- Who are…?” you sputtered without thinking and the man simply shook his head with slow, deliberate motion, causing you to stop then and there. You blinked, in silence, your lips opening and closing.

The tears were threatening to fall and you desperately didn’t want it to happen. It would just show your weakness to this monster and you already looked like a pitiful little mess. You picked up your cup and sipped what was left of your tea, rising from your seat with all the strength you could muster with a small sniffle. _Don’t show him your tears_ , you thought.

As you were placing your cup into your sink, the man was behind you suddenly and without warning, as you were lost in your own racing thoughts. His arm went by your side, too close to you, as he placed the cup you offered him into the sink right on top of yours.

You froze, a gasp escaping you.

And you heard what almost sounded like a very faint, very pleased… vibration of noise come from him behind you, you weren’t too sure, since your heartbeat was pounding so hard in your ears you couldn’t think straight.

Every hair on your body stood on end when the man had leaned down close to your neck, too close, his lips close, much too close, to your ear, his breath gentle against it as he whispered, “My name is Harry.”

He lingered there, for far too long. You could feel him breathing and you were too terrified to move at all, your lips quivering, your own breathing audibly shaking.

“But don’t say it. Don’t… say it.”

He then backed away from you, returning to the seat he had claimed as his own at your kitchen table. The overflow began and there was nothing you could do to stop it. Wet streaks fell down your cheeks, one after another, blurring your vision as you stared into the sink where the cups lie on top of one another.

You felt so trapped. Your chest heaved and a sob erupted from you abruptly, your hands covering your nose and mouth to stop the shockwave, but it was too late. This wasn’t your house anymore, it was the den of a creature hellbent on tasting your blood and gnawing on the shreds of your suffering until the bitter end. That’s how it felt. That this man was your death, awaiting for you and only you.

Harry calmly stared at you as you sobbed over the sink, unable to keep a grip on yourself any longer. You had tried to, oh you had tried. You tried so hard to stay strong.

“Do you want a hug?”

You choked on your own gulp of air, your head whipping to this man with the most incredulous expression on your tear-stained face. A flicker of a smile ghosted around Harry’s mouth, but it never manifested.

“Just kidding,” he said, leaning back in the chair, finally, his gaze settling elsewhere.

Your eyes narrowed, but somehow… You felt your tears subside just a little bit. That sinister aura didn’t feel as thick and all-consuming as it had a moment ago. He wasn’t a monster, just a man. Probably a criminal… or a serial killer. But just another human being. You felt a bit more calm. Only a little.

You looked away, a question prodding at your tongue and you wanted to know if he would tell the truth. He probably wouldn’t. Why would he? Harry probably wasn’t even his real name. You allowed your momentary calmness fuel your strength.

“Are you… W- Were you… planning to kill me…?”

Harry seemed thoughtful about your question, though not surprised by it. You wondered if he was considering lying to you so that you’ll keep cooperating without any issues arising. If it were you, you would lie. You felt sick. You were dreading what his answer might be even though you were the one who asked so blatantly.

“No. Didn’t think anyone lived here,” he admitted, his eyes wandering around your kitchen, observing the olden items and decor of the last decade within your home.

“O- Oh..”

Your face flushed as you realized that it sounded as if you were slightly disappointed by his answer due to the tone of your reply, which was completely unintentional. You dared to glance his way and sure enough, his eyes were pinned directly on you now, one of his brows just slightly risen.

“N- Not like that!!” you defended with your hands, turning away from a grin that had formed on his lips. He chuckled lightly at your response, shaking his head just a bit.

“I might do anything if you ask me nicely,” he teased, though, it was as if it were teasing between friends, but something about his gaze seemed just a little bit more soft toward you. There couldn’t be a reason for it, because you were strangers. And your interactions have only lasted for an hour at most.

“Then… Then… may I…?” you persisted in a quiet but hopeful voice with a step toward him, testing the waters of his offer, even though you knew it wasn’t serious, you wanted to know if you could just straight up ask him to leave without hurting you or worse. If he would listen to you.

He seemed curious, but also cautious. His demeanor bristled slightly, but his posture remained mostly relaxed. “Depends on what it is.”

Your eyes went downcast, feeling that the answer to your plea would be instantly rejected. You just wanted your home back, to be alone, to feel safe in your own house. That wasn’t possible with his presence. Your lips tightened and you inhaled a breath as you steadied yourself to meet his gaze.

“Would you help me get some of my blankets down from the closet upstairs? You’re… taller, so…” you mumbled, fumbling with the hem of your shirt where your eyes ended up looking.

Harry seemed taken aback by your request. Clearly, it wasn’t what he had expected, though, what he had expected was probably true. It was just that you couldn’t say the words out loud.

“Ah… Alright,” he accepted, standing from his seat.

You walked past him, heading toward the staircase and he followed behind. As you reached the closet after opening it, you turned toward him, the closet light giving you a much clearer view of the features defining his face. He was actually somewhat handsome and you found your cheeks burning to your horror and chagrin, instantly looking downward before moving out of his way. You hoped he didn’t notice.

He did.

The extra quilts and blankets were gathered from the upper shelves, bundled in his arms and he faced you, waiting for your directions.

“There’s a couch downstairs,” you said as you took a few steps to descend the staircase, looking back for a moment to see Harry still in front of the closet.

“Your bed,” he responded simply.

“My… bed?” you repeated with risen brows, suspicious feelings swirling about in a vortex that gave you a bit of nausea. He couldn’t be implying that he wanted to sleep in your bed while you were the one to sleep on the couch?!

Some kind of smirk crossed his features as he turned to your bedroom door, gently nudging it open with his boot. Before you could even get a word of protest in, he had already invited himself in, the bundle of fabrics now rested on your bedside.

Harry motioned for you to join him with beckoning fingers, you, feeling sickness in the deepest pit of your stomach, preying silently to any such beings if they even existed to please protect you from this might-be monster. You were shaking again, timidly entering what used to be your safe haven to hide from the world.

“W- Why…?” you asked before you could stop yourself, your lip quivering as your arms wrapped around yourself to try and bring yourself some comfort.

“Go on.” He gestured to the covers, peeling them from their respective corners until there was space for you to slide beneath them. This time he wouldn’t answer your question and you were too afraid to ask again. In fact, you were almost too afraid to even move, afraid that you were willingly slipping into your shackles of death. Or worse.

You hesitated, but he waited.

Slowly, despite still being in your basic work clothes, you obeyed and sat at the edge of your bed, maneuvering your body beneath the covers after kicking your shoes off. Harry tucked you in until you were all snug. You grimace, hoping with all your might that he doesn’t try to sleep in your bed. You wished he would just go away so you could at least put on your pajamas. The fact that he was actually forcing you to go to bed made you feel angry, but your fear had your brain too overloaded to act out on it.

“Comfy?” he asked in an unusually gentle tone as he grabbed the edge of one of the extra blankets, draping that one over you as well despite there already being two upon you.

You hated that you wanted to keep asking why, why, why, to every single thing that he did. You hated it even more than despite asking, you weren’t going to get an answer.

Harry leaned closer to your face, you shrinking back into your pillow. Your reaction kept him from going any nearer.

“Are you comfy?” he asked again, his tone even quieter than it had been before. You nodded feebly. Why was he such a weird person? Was he a killer? A rapist? A thief? You felt so confused and scared, it showed visibly on your facial expressions. Maybe sleep was the best option after all so that this nightmare would be over with faster.

He sat down next to you, his body touching yours with the barrier of blankets between you, but you could feel his weight on the edge of the bed, the warmth of it.

“Not gonna hurt you,” he uttered aloud suddenly, his fingers intertwined with themselves, rested loosely on his lap. “Not unless you want me to.”

Your eyes widened as you attempted to get your breathing under control, sharply inhaling through your nostrils when the words left his mouth. Not unless he wanted you to? Why the hell would you want him to? Is he insane?

“I- I don’t want you to,” you responded very quickly, a little too quickly, to which he chuckled somewhat heartily. It surprised you. He was definitely a weird person.

“I know,” he said quietly, never once looking in your direction, only staring straight ahead through the maw of your open bedroom door. “…I know. So, I won’t. No reason to. Thank you for your hospitality.”

You wanted to snort at that. Hospitality? Forced to be kept as a hostage in your own home felt more accurate to you.

“…Well, your forced hospitality, that is,” he continued with a slight chuckle, almost as if he read your very own thoughts. The fact that he laughed at your state of distress made you feel sick.

“I guess I should say, thank you for cooperating.”

You weren’t sure how to respond. You had not a clue what sort of person he was, or what his intentions were. He certainly wasn’t going to relay that information to you. Or perhaps he would, if you asked nicely, you remembered…

“Um. Could I… change into my pajamas?” your question came out in a tiny voice, feeling humiliated with the fact that you were asking for permission, but also the fact that you were almost very sure that he wouldn’t leave the room either to give you privacy.

“I did ask if you were comfy,” he replied, not turning toward you, but his eyes were watching you now. You stayed silent, unsure of what that answer was supposed to mean. He was the one who forced you to get in the bed! He then stood up, taking a few steps before standing right outside of the doorframe, shutting the door behind him. You heard no further footsteps, so he was still standing there.

You were surprised that he granted you privacy and wasn’t going to absolutely take advantage of you while making yourself even more vulnerable in front of him. A tiny bit of relief washed over you. You knew you weren’t much to look at anyways, silently very thankful that you weren’t super conventionally attractive. Or else he might have tried to take advantage of you already.

Without wasting time, you quickly went to your closet, grabbing an oversized shirt and some bottoms to switch into, throwing your work outfit into the closet. Usually you wouldn’t wear so much to bed, but there was no way you were going to be in just your underwear, dangling bloodied meat in front of a circling shark. No way.

Sliding back under the covers, you settled into your cozy bed, feeling more relief especially with just being alone, for the moment, pretending it was an ordinary, normal night and there wasn’t a serial killer right outside of your door.

He came back in, shattering your perfect shortlived fantasy. To the other side of your bed is where he stood this time, then, to your absolute horror, he began to undress. You turned over quickly to face away, your heart hammering away you almost thought he could probably actually hear it. You felt it in your ears as they burned.

The weight of your bed shifted, the feeling extremely unfamiliar, with the weight of someone else’s body occupying the space right next to you. You had never slept next to anybody, nor had you ever slept with anybody. You’d never even kissed anyone. Your face felt overbearingly hot.

You were too afraid to speak.

Harry was shuffling around a bit, perhaps to make himself comfortable, but you felt something pressing against your back, down to your legs. It wasn’t his body, you knew, as you peered over your shoulder for a second to see that he was using the extra blankets to build a barrier between the two of you. Your brows knit together, the confusions so overwhelming already.

He seemed rather calm and undisturbed, but both of those words felt inaccurate. Emotionless felt more correct to you.

“It’s been so long. Please allow me to have this selfish comfort.”

That was all he had said before he settled on his back next to you and you couldn’t understand what he truly meant by it at all. The comfort of sleeping next to somebody? The comfort of a bed? What kind of life had he lived? You understood on some level that bed was definitely the most safe and comfortable place to be, but your space felt so invaded, so stifled. You had never shared it before.

A silence loomed between you and him for several long minutes, perhaps even longer, until you finally felt the courage to move around enough to turn off your lamp, darkness befalling the room. You heard Harry suck in his breath once the darkness engulfed you both, but then silence. There wasn’t a chance that you would fall asleep. Not at all. The silence remained, but your mind was speeding through thoughts one after the next. So fast, that you had forgotten something.

“What happened to you, Harry…?” you whispered softly after several moments, unknowing if he had fallen asleep or if he lay awake just as you were. You hoped he was asleep. Though, you imagined he definitely wouldn’t allow himself to do so until he knew for sure that you were first, which is why you spoke.

Your back was faced to him, but you felt his weight shifting around, something draped over your side on top of the blankets. His arm. A noiseless breath left you as you felt the blankets being pressed closer against your backside. You had become the little spoon.

Your face felt like it was on fire and your skin wasn’t even touching one another, blankets covering everything in between. Your voice felt stuck in your throat.

Harry kept snuggling closer to you, despite the barriers between you both, almost clutching onto you. You could barely, just barely, feel his breath on the back of your head. He could smell the scent of your shampoo. The scent of you, your room, everything. It was driving you mad.

“I escaped,” he uttered aloud, his hold on you growing more tight as your confusion swelled even more. “I was the only one who made it out alive. I was stuck down there, in the dark, for so long… so long…”

You had no idea what the hell he was talking about, your mind derailing in several different directions all at once. A man was holding you, something you’d never experienced aside from being hugged by your father, your heart on the verge of exploding in your chest and he wasn’t making any sense.

“I had no choice,” he continued softly, his voice strained as he went on. “I had to do it… I thought I was going to die down there. I had to kill them. I had to… I had to eat…”

Your breath was audibly shaking now, your chest heaving and this strange man holding onto you even more tightly before it finally clicked in your mind, the vague words he was saying, admitting that he had killed another human, other humans. And he had eaten their flesh without any other choice, stuck in the dark deep underground.

“You were trapped in that mine accident,” you whispered suddenly, the pieces finally coming together for you in your mind. He wasn’t a serial killer, he was a man caught in an unfortunate accident, forced to survive in conditions not meant for any humans…

“I- I’m sorry…” you continued, unsure of what to do from this point on with this new realization.

Harry said nothing after that. He only clung to you as if it were his last life line connected to his sanity. You felt horrible for him. It wasn’t that it made anything he was doing okay, breaking into your house, holding you hostage essentially, getting too close to you. But you couldn’t imagine the horror of being trapped in a mine with no food, no water, no light… Lost and unsure if there would ever be a way to get out. Accepting that you may die alone, in the dark.

You thought you had felt true fear when you saw Harry for the first time in his actually very horrifying outfit. You realized then that he had seen, felt and done things that you didn’t even have the capacity to imagine. You felt empathy for him. No wonder he was such a strange person… How could anybody be normal after such a traumatic event?

Even though the circumstances were unusual and terrifying, a feeling within you began to stir. You wanted to help this man. Despite that he was invading your personal space, he hadn’t actually molested you nor did he attempt anything of the sort.

“Please tell me everything is okay,” he pleaded quietly without warning, his voice hoarse as it cracked slightly, his face burrowing deeper into the pillows, thus closer to your neck. This poor man was losing his grip and you felt helpless to do anything to bring some ease.

“Everything… Everything is okay. Okay? It’s okay. You’re okay now,” you complied with his request, trying your best to not sound so scared while you were speaking, but your voice still shook just a bit. Harry’s body heaved suddenly, startling you, as he then clutched onto you, the blankets balled into his fists.

There were sometimes noises that came from him that you couldn’t really identify. It kind of sounded as if he were crying, but you weren’t sure.

He was.

He had no one. He had nothing. He was wanted for murder after he managed to escape from the collapsed mine. He did what he had to do in order to survive, during an accident that was no one’s fault but the managers that oversaw the project to begin with and their carelessness. Yet, he was the one who was blamed. All he wanted was to be told that it would be okay. He just wanted to feel like someone understands, but everyone looked at him with evil eyes.

You were the only one he had come across that hadn’t.

He held onto you. He cried into your backside, for how long, you had no idea. He was desperate for the feelings to come to an end. He would never be the man he was before. He could never return to the life he had before. “Harry” was only a cannibalistic murderer now. His identity was stripped from him when he emerged victorious in fighting tooth and nail for his very life.

Only overjoyed to breathe fresh air, to see the sunshine he thought he was never see again, while people he used to know as friends and coworkers leered down upon him like he was just some petty serial killer.

You had no idea.

Somehow, you eventually fell asleep, despite being in a situation you’d have never come up with in your wildest of dreams. The rays of the suns light filtered through your curtains as you began to return to the waking world. All you could see in your blurred vision were the specks of dust lazily floating around in front of the window.

An arm was still holding onto you, you realized. You attempted to not move too much, turning your head to see if Harry was awake. He wasn’t. His side rose and fell gently with his slumber, still as close to you as he was in the hours of the night. He needed your comfort and you provided it, even despite the very unusual set of circumstances.

Under his eyelashes, his lower lids were raw and red, a bit of dampness still visible as darkened spots on the fabric of your pillowcase. How late had he remained awake? You imagined it may be hard for someone like him to sleep in the darkness due to what he had experienced. He may not have slept at all until the faintest of sunlight came through the window.

Your assumption was correct.

You waited for at least an hour, but Harry wouldn’t budge. He never even stirred when you very gingerly moved his arm and slipped away from him. For a moment, you stood by the bedside, observing this man who slept in your bed. Gently, you moved the blankets to cover his shoulders. As you were closer to his face, you let your fingertips brush softly against a few locks of his hair that had stuck to his forehead during the night.

Harry woke many hours later, suddenly jerking upright when he realized that you were long gone. As he came into your view at the bottom of the staircase, you were preparing some sandwiches for lunch with cooked vegetables and such on them. No meat, as you decided that might be insensitive for someone like Harry to smell it cooking.

“Oh, good morning, Harry,” you greeted him in the most normal way you could think of, your face immediately flushed as he was in nothing but his pants. Quickly, you put a plate down on your kitchen table with the offering of food. “Hungry?”

He looked completely stupefied with disheveled hair and obviously just woke up, blinking several times at you as you attempted to make some kind of genuine smile before you turned away from him, continuing to go ahead and begin making your own meal. The first sandwich was actually for yourself, but you hadn’t expected to see him just yet, so you decided to give it to him instead.

“Ah. Uh. Sure,” he replied as he sat at the table, seemingly astounded by everything around him, staring down at the plate. “Good… morning?”

“It’s afternoon now, but it’s alright,” you replied, your heart doing a million flips per second because of how he was an intruder who broke in last night, who terrified you to death, but now you were feeding him and somewhat actually concerned for his well-being. What a bizarre and rapid change of pace.

You both ate in silence after you joined him at the table, continuing in this fashion until you both finished. His satisfied expression told you that he was highly appreciative of it. You stood and took the plates to the sink.

“Hey.”

You turned toward him with your head slightly tilted attentively, waiting for him to go on.

“…Thank you,” he murmured, his eyes usually sharp as darts seemingly soft at this moment, not piercing into your own, but slightly downcast. Awkwardly, he shuffled his feet together.

“It’s okay,” you replied, resuming the dishes that you were cleaning and putting away, going on to do the same with the food you had laying out on the countertops. As you completed your tasks, you turned to Harry, holding you hands together in front of you, your lips pressed into a line as you thought about the words you wanted to say. You inhaled.

“Harry…” you began softly, your thumbs messing about with one another while he was watching you, awaiting for what you had to say, though he seemed somewhat uncomfortable.

“…You can stay here, if you want to. I- If you have no where else to go, I mean. I- I know that’s weird because you… broke into my house, but…”

He blinked several times, clearly not expecting this conversation at all. In fact, he had most likely expected that you’d say, _alright, you had your fucked up fun in my bed, now get the fuck out_. But no. It wasn’t that at all. You felt pity for him. You wanted to help him, truly. He had suffered great misfortune. And he hadn’t hurt you.

“I shouldn’t take advantage of you more than I already have,” he responded, knowing damn well that it wouldn’t be right for him to stay with you after the events of yesterday. All he had wanted was somewhere to get away from the cold. It wasn’t exactly his plan to find a woman in an old house distanced from all other homes in the area.

You approached nearer to him, holding your own arms around yourself.

“I- I- I’d like it, if you did,” you somehow found yourself pleading for him to reconsider, your face lighting a shade of pink in your chagrin. “Y- You said you would do anything if I… if I asked you nicely. So… please stay…?”

He chuckled a bit, exhaling through his nose. Maybe he would reconsider, but you couldn’t read his expression as he let himself get lost in his own thoughts and considerations.

“Guess you got me there, huh? I’ll take your offer. Thank you for your hospitality, again,” he responded, more gently this time around. You smiled a genuine smile, nothing forced or faked, elated to hear that you could assist someone in need once more. He reflected your smile with one of his own.

“…Don’t wear that mask again though, it really frightened me,” you mentioned as you nodded toward it still sitting on the table where he had left it the night before. You found that you kind of liked his laugh when it happened, as it did now.

“I don’t even know your name,” he said, not outright asking for it, but inquiring for you to give that information to him freely.

And so you did.

“Is that so? That’s a very beautiful name,” he uttered quietly, seemingly almost to himself, but you still heard him. “I really like it.”

You blushed and thanked him. You were feeling some type of way and it was disturbing but not unwelcomed, only foreign to you. You now had someone to live with, for the first time in some several years. Well, for however long Harry would like to stay. You found that you were okay with him overstaying his welcome for as long as he would like to.

And he most certainly did.


	2. Night.02

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's POV :)

What is life like when you hardly see the sunshine? It's dark and bleak, sometimes dreary, sometimes depressing. A dark haired man stood in the shadows, his entire body covered in his work uniform, his visage then obscured by a gas mask that he had put on. A nozzle connected to its mouth, allowing him to breathe easier.

He stood in a tunnel, resuming his scheduled work after a short break, talking and laughing with his coworkers. It was just another day. Nothing unusual, getting onto the grind for survival. Harry Warden turned his head when one of his pals said his name, but before they could continue, the ground rumbles beneath their feet.

The tremors don't stop as the men panic, fleeing toward safety, but they heard screams echoing down the shafts of the mine. And then, nothing but stillness. Harry waits patiently as one of the two coworkers that ran with him went to go investigate.

Upon their return, their voices shook when they retold what they had seen. The part of the mine that lead to the surface had collapsed on top of a group of men. None of them survived. And now there was no way out. They all knew the precautions, but they never expected it to actually happen.

"Stay calm," Harry said, trying to keep his own voice steady. But the panic swelled inside of his stomach. He had to remain calm. If they succumb to fear, they succumb to death.

"We need to stick together. We could use an alternate route and make our way to the surface."

The other two men agreed, it was definitely better to stick together. They attempted to ration what little food and water they had left while looking for more from the corpses of their friends.

Their head lamps begin to dim, escalating their panic. Being stuck in the dark was much worse. To starve to death, surrounded by complete darkness... Not any such way to navigate out of the underground tunnels. They felt death looming, breathing down their necks.

There wasn't a way to track the time. They couldn't tell how long they had been down there, but it felt like forever.

When one of the two men's head lamp finally died, they both conspired against Harry, to take his life and use his rations for their own survival... but Harry knew they would. He wasn't stupid.

A brawl ensued between the men and Harry barely managed to take them both out, killing both of them with his pickax, slashing and crushing their skulls into the dirt. Afterward, he claimed their supplies, but cried heavily in agony. He had never killed anyone or anything before. He was a gentle man who never hurt anybody... unless they liked it.

Only one more lamp, a limited and dwindling time limit for survival. Soon, everything became depleted and Harry returned to the bodies of his coworkers... It was the only way, but his chest heaved, faster and faster, until he forced himself to shut his eyes, to ignore the heavy stench of blood and decay. He consumed their meat, the flesh of the deceased... It was stringy and disgusting, chunks taken out of their bodies with metal. But he had no other choice. It was the only way.

Alone, his descent into madness spiraled down and fast. His scream echoed down mine shafts in his torment after throwing the mask against the wall, wasting precious energy with a violent rage. Shrill bellows, cursing God, begging for someone, anyone, to save him. It was hard to breathe, wandering aimlessly, hopelessly.

"Please..." he begged to no one in a weak whisper, the light of his head lamp flickering and fading out, the last of his will falling away with it. These tunnels would become his tomb, his grave. He would never see his family again, never see the rays of the sunshine, never feel the kiss of a lover. His body will rot behind, never to be seen again.

As the light dimmed to its death, a small white dot flickered off into the distance from where Harry had sat and leaned against equipment, accepting his horrid demise. He blinked rapidly with his sharp breaths, scrambling weakly to his feet with his mask in his hand.

He approached the small, barely visible light, observing that it was definitely sunshine filtering through. With his bloody pickax, he chipped away at the stone. It felt hopeless. His strength was depleted, but he had to keep going.

Somehow, he managed to break through the opening just enough to crawl through.

When the fresh air filled his lungs, it was utterly overwhelming, tears poured from his eyes with his cries, blinded by the bright sun high in the sky. He stumbled forward and fell to his knees, grasping the grass and dirt between his fingers and blurred vision, sobbing hysterically as endless tears dripped down onto the dried blood and meat caked into his gloves.

Despite being lucky enough to somehow escape from the mine, rage swirled inside, for those responsible for the accident. If they had stayed at the site instead of going to that stupid dance... How long had he been down there? Far off on top of the hills was where the entrance was, near the collapse, yet there wasn't anyone there, as far as he could see after wiping his face off.

He felt weak, barely able to walk all the way back to his town, Valentines Bluffs. He was sure that his friends and family would be ecstatic to see that he had survived. Somehow, he made it.

But when he arrived, he found them only to be astounded and horrified. Finally, he got to be fed real food, downing glasses and glasses of water. The towns folk questioned him, why he had blood all over his uniform and he explained that an explosion trapped everyone inside of the mine, the explosion itself causing a collapse that killed most of the miners on impact.

"How did you survive?" the mayor himself questioned, so Harry explained. He and two others were mostly unscathed, but they had run low on supplies while trying to find a way to exit the mines. Those around him were stunned, claiming that there was an attempt to rescue for weeks, but no one was found.

"So, where are they...?"

Guilt shredded Harry's insides. He hesitated for a moment, but he decided to tell them the truth: he had overheard their plot to conspire against him to prolong their own survival and they attacked him. He defended himself against them and killed them. Instead of the reaction he had expected, faces around him shifted into something... else.

"You... Harry, you... killed them...?"

Exasperation spiked within him as he further defended himself, explaining that he was backed into a corner. When they looked suspicious, he felt a violent rage brewing, but exhaled his breath. They wanted more details on how he had managed to survive for so long without food, without water, without light.

There were no details omitted from his retelling of his experience, the fact that they looted dead bodies to try and survive, that he killed them when they turned against him, that he used the rest of their supplies until there was nothing and then... he ate their flesh.

"What?! You **_ate_** them??"

"I had to!" he barked, slamming his fist on the top of the table, startling the others standing around him. He rose from his seat as he heard voices whispering that he may be mentally insane, that maybe someone should call the police.

It felt like something inside of his brain snapped. Something broke inside and his emotions felt far away, replaced with nothing but an intense and extreme hatred. They were looking at him as if he were a monster, their faces contorted with disgust, when all he had done was told the truth.

As they decided that they were going to have him institutionalized, he stormed out of the vicinity with his swollen rage at their betrayal. He never would have expected that they would react this way, he had thought they would offer him empathy for his plight, for the horrible experience he had gone through.

He would never forgive them. Never.

Harry left the town the way he had come, still wearing the tattered, bloody uniform, carrying the mask that kept him alive under his arm. He wandered aimlessly though dangerous paths to keep the towns folk from trailing him. The sun rose and it fell, replaced with the dim shine of the moon.

Yet he felt nothing but numbness, seeing another towns lights far off in the distance from the hill he had climbed. Feeling weary, he sat on the ground, leaning against a tall tree for rest. His lids closed, but sleep never came. The darkness made him feel certain ways that he wanted to forget.

His eyes were dark, sunken with the lack of restful sleep, continuing his journey toward the town he had seen when the sun rose again. Though he knew he couldn't really travel through the public, looking the way that he did, traversing through the outskirts.

As the night befell around him again, he noticed an old looking home out in the middle of nowhere a bit of a ways off from the town, seemingly abandoned at first glance. As he approached it, he tried the door knob to the front door, finding it to be unlocked. Thinking he caught a lucky break to have adequate shelter to rest under, he entered inside, surveying its contents after putting his gas mask on, just in case someone were there and could identity him.

To his surprise, it looked quite clean and lived in, but all of the decor was outdated by at least a decade. His hopeful assumption was that the person who had lived there perhaps died recently and the house remained unoccupied.

As he ascended the staircase to the second floor, he observed the photographs lining it, but ignored any thoughts lingering about them. He was tired, so tired, hungry and cold. He came across a bedroom door near the top, stepping inside. A strange feeling overcame him, a feeling that told him this may not be a good idea.

The room looked very lived in and a lot of personal items were scattered about. Maybe someone did live there. He felt out of place and decided that he should probably leave before anyone arrived, turning toward the window across from the bed. It lead to the rooftop. As he began to try and open it to peer out into the darkness for any land mark he could use, he heard the sound of glass shattering.

When he turned his head slowly, a woman came into his view and she looked absolutely horrified. She had dropped a vase. He's covered in blood, wearing a mask. This obviously looked very bad. He stayed still, going over his options on how to calm the situation before it got really out of hand when she began to sputter nonsensical words before running away from him.

_Oh, shit..._

Immediately he followed her, rounding the bottom of the staircase to see her dialing a number into her telephone. He closed the short distance with long strides, pressing down on the button to terminate her call.

"Don't do that."

The poor woman looked completely petrified and inside, Harry felt bad for scaring her and invading her home, but he couldn't allow her to make his situation worse than it already was. He knew that her fear might make her comply with him and he could use force if it became necessary, but he felt so weary and exhausted. His plan was that he would stay the night just to rest and then depart, hopefully without the homes inhabitant causing too much trouble.

When he moved just slightly, the woman cowered away in fear, Harry internally wincing at how afraid of him she was. He felt sorry about it, knowing that he was frightening looking and a stranger. He imagined she could only expect the worst of him.

He decided to stay still and wait for her to do as she wished. But she stayed just as still as him, for several moments, before she rose from her kitchen chair, retreating further into the kitchen as he watched her without ever showing him her back. And to his surprise, she stuttered out a question, asking if he would like... some tea.

_Uh, what?_

Harry guessed she didn't want to get hurt, so she may be attempting to make her situation less painful for herself as well.

He accepted her offer with a silent nod, watching as she shook the entire time while preparing one for him and one for herself. This meant that he would have to take off his gas mask, which he wasn't actually opposed to, unless she knew of his identity, but that may be unlikely. Might make her feel more at ease without it.

As he's lost in his thoughts, her words bring him back to the present, where he sees that she sat across from him at the table, a cup of hot tea in front of him. She asked if he would prefer for her to look away. Internally, he laughed at the thought that she assumed he was a criminal of some sorts. He didn't consider himself to be a criminal, he didn't do anything wrong. But what else would she think?

"...No."

He reached up and removed his gear from his visage to reveal himself to her, placing it down next to him on the table. Somehow, he felt pleased by her expression and guessed she was shocked by his appearance when he caught her hard stare.

Without breaking eye contact, he removed his gloves as well, mostly curious to know if she would be the first to look away or not. She didn't, but her eyes were wide with fear, which made him feel bad, so he averted his gaze down to the cup in front of him.

He tried it, finding it very pleasant to be warmed by it, paying her a small compliment for her kindness, even though it was forced. His eyes meet with hers again, because, well, they're pretty, when she suddenly sucked in air through her lips in quiet gasp.

Harry swallowed hard, feelings becoming roused that he felt were incredibly inappropriate. Noises were a special kind of weakness for him, especially ones that he favored and he was finding that he really, really, really liked hers.

Somehow, he was feeling that he was becoming a little bit attracted toward her, her voice was soft and sounded so alluring. He knew feeling that way was wrong because of the situation, he definitely needed to retain control over himself. He wasn't the type of man to be a degenerate low life. She was so afraid of him that she constantly trembled, but it seemed that she gathered a little courage.

She attempted to ask about his identity, but he shook his head, slow and deliberate, for her to cease. _Don't ask about me_ , he thought. _I'm nobody now._

Tears were making her eyes shine from her visible fear and the guilty feelings stirred around in his insides. He wanted to try and at least be less scary, but it wasn't working very well. She rose from her chair suddenly with her cup, toward the kitchen sink where she placed it down.

Harry decided to do the same, coming up behind her as she froze, placing his own on top of hers, but when his arm went past hers, she inhaled sharply again with a soft gasp. He strained his jaw by clenching his teeth, failing to contain a noise in his throat. She smelled pretty nice. _Kinda turning me on here, girl, stop it... Ah, shit. I just made a creepy noise_ , he thought as more thoughts swirled about his brain, trying to get a hold of himself.

Certainly he couldn't be so desperate...?

But then he made a mistake.

He leaned down to her level, whispering that his name was Harry into her ear, then hesitating for a moment after he had said it. _Her voice is so nice, I shouldn't have... done that_ , he thought, trying to think of a way to backtrack and decides to just tell her to not say it out loud. Feeling awkward, he moved away from her back to where he had sat before, taking his seat and trying to not feel like a creepy weirdo.

Sleep deprivation was leading him to make poor decisions.

And then suddenly, the woman was sobbing over her sink, tears pouring down her cheeks and Harry felt like a black hole sucked out his heart and spat it into infinite space. He knew he definitely fucked up right there, wishing he could apologize or say anything to make her feel better, but he knew nothing he could say would be appropriate. He already crossed a line.

But he felt like he should say **something**.

"You want a hug?"

His eyes were met with her daggers, staring at him in disbelief as he internally felt like he was being devoured. Why couldn't it have been some old guy or lady living here? Not this poor pretty little lady on the verge of a heart attack...

"Just kidding," he said, deciding to look at anything but her and observe the old decor a little more just to do something else. He wasn't making it any better. Though, he did notice that she wasn't sobbing anymore, so maybe he did made a decent move this time.

The woman asked him out of the blue if he had planned on killing her, to which, his brows rose just slightly. No, definitely not, but it proved that she was very afraid of him, most likely for that very reason. He decided to tell her the truth, saying no, he thought the house was empty.

She uttered an 'oh', but her tone mistakenly made it sound as if she were disappointed and Harry wanted to laugh. 'Oh', like she **wanted** him to kill her. He raises a brow at her chagrin as she tried to defend herself, stuttering that she hadn't meant it like that. _Please stop, you are so cute_ , he thought, finding a bit of himself wishing that he could just live a normal home life with a gal... Maybe... this gal.

No, never. Never.

But he got a little bit ballsy over a meaningless attraction that had no basis or foundation to turn into anything more, telling her that if she asked nicely, he might comply with her wishes. Though, his wish was to hear what she sounded like, up against him, pleading for him to touch her. He found himself getting riled up over his thoughts. _Can't be thinkin' about all that_ , he told himself.

The look on her face told him that she was immediately eager to take his offer and ask something of him and all he could laughably think of was her asking him to kiss her. Inwardly he felt embarrassed over his wild imagination.

When she got the courage to speak her mind, she asked if it was okay if she could ask something of him, though he knew it wouldn't be anything he wanted, he gruffly let her know it depended on what she asked for. She looked disappointed and it gave him a tinge of sadness.

_I know you want me to go away_ , he thought. _I just need some place to stay. I'll be gone before you know it._

To his surprise though, she inquired if he could help her gather some blankets from the second floor, presumably, for him. It was unexpected, but he was thankful for her kindness, even if he really didn't deserve it at all.

He accepted, following her lead up the staircase to a closet, where she stored her extra items. The light inside of the space was brightly lit, exposing the details of his visage to her, giving her a much more clear view. And shockingly, when his eyes met hers, she immediately looked away with a blush flooding her cheeks.

**Fuck.**

_Fuck._

**_Fuck, that's cute._ **

Harry made an attempt to calm himself, gathering the fabrics from the top shelf, trying to think of anything else, _anything_ else. The woman mentioned a couch downstairs, but it made Harry feel a dark chill. It was very dark downstairs and he couldn't handle the dark consuming him.

_Fuck it, she ain't into me, it's foolish to even play around with these ideas, let's make this night end_ , he thought, unable to get a grasp of his thoughts spiraling out of control over her. _Forget it, just forget it, there's a bed and I'm sleeping in it._

The woman looked to him with extreme incredulity at his words, implying that they were going to sleep, in her bed. He went to her room, pushing the door open with his foot and placed the extra blankets on it. When she was just standing there with a shocked expression, he beckoned her to come inside.

It was clear she did not want to, but she obeyed, further following his direction when he quite literally pulled back her covers for her to lay down under. And she did. The closest he would ever be to her was tucking her in, so he does, nice and cozy. He softly asked aloud if she were comfortable, but it seemed she hadn't heard him.

He repeated himself, but she cowered away from him, causing that bad feeling to arise once again. _God, I'm sorry..._

Harry sat on the edge of her bed next to her, facing away from her. He told her that he had no intent on hurting her or any such thing, unless she wanted him to, which she vehemently denied as expected. He chuckled lightly with his morbid joking, then thanked her for her hospitality, even though... he cornered her into it. At the realization, he chuckled just a bit, rewording himself to acknowledge her forced cooperation. _And not turning me over to the local authorities_ , he thought silently.

He only hoped she could understand.

They sat in a moment of silence before the woman spoke up quietly, asking if she could at least change into something more comfortable. A wild image of her undressing crossed his mind, getting a little cheeky in his response, as he did ask if she was comfortable, but he felt like he definitely needed to leave the room and calm himself. He wouldn't ever do anything disgusting, he already felt disgusted by his own thoughts.

He removed himself, standing outside of the closed door.

The window in her bedroom faced where the sun rose over the horizon, while the downstairs windows mostly faced the opposite direction. Being alone, in the darkness, in an enclosed area... He couldn't do it. _I'm sorry_ , he thought. He could put up with the ground, he could put up with sleeping in the wilderness out in the open, but the thought of himself enveloped in darkness in a closed space, he felt like he might choke.

He felt so tired.

When he reentered the room, the woman was where he had left her, though he assumed she finished her business. He moved to the opposite side of her bed and began to strip off of his dirty clothes one at a time. He knew she would look away.

Afterward, he made himself comfy, but knew there was something missing. He began to use the extra blankets she had offered him to build a barrier between herself and him, her turning toward him with a confused expression. It was the least he could do. Not that it would do much to make her feel any better, he was basically invading her bed selfishly, but damn was it cozy.

"Please allow me to have this selfish comfort."

**_Oh my God it feels like heaven._ **

The fabrics were heavy with her scent, a nice addition to a decent sleep, for once. They stay in silence for a while, until the woman moves about just a bit to turn off the lamp. Harry sucked in his breath. He had hoped she wouldn't do that. No matter how comfortable, he could only lie there, wide awake despite tired eyes while surrounded by darkness.

No thoughts were in his mind.

Only panic.

Suddenly, he hears her voice over to his side, small, but he barely heard what she asked quietly. It was random and it sent his mind into a wreck. It threw him over the edge. _What happened to me?_

**_I'm not Harry anymore._ **

**_Harry is just a murderer._ **

It's too much. It's all too much. He rolled over and... clung onto the stranger woman. It was crossing a line, but he'd already crossed it. There were blankets between him and her. It felt like it was all falling apart at the seams. It all begins to overflow and he couldn't make it stop.

He told her that he escaped.

The lone survivor. He had been in that fucking hole for so long, trying to find a way out. Slowly losing all resources. Losing his grip on reality. All hope completely destroyed. Moments before finding faint light, he had accepted his death. Trying to have the backs of his coworkers that turned on him, taking their lives. His friends and associates, betraying him when he sought out their help.

How he had to... eat their flesh, just to survive. There was nothing left. He had to. He had no other choice. He didn't know if she understood or if she even cared, but he couldn't bear it anymore.

But then she said it.

"You were in that mine accident... I'm sorry."

She understood.

He knew it was stupid, but he wanted it to end. To go back, to change it, to have taken another job, any other career, born to a different life, away from that stupid little miners town that only cared about a useless holiday. He begged her to just please tell him that everything was okay. Because nothing felt okay. Nothing at all.

And she did. Her voice quivered, but it seemed as if she really wanted to make him believe that it was actually okay.

Harry broke. His entire body was hit by a shockwave and he tried to keep it inside, but he couldn't. He sobbed his heart out into her backside, for how long, he couldn't have guessed. It was apparent that she had fallen asleep some time ago, softly snoring, but Harry remained awake for hours, holding onto her as tightly as he could.

A strange, in one single moment, had shown him more kindness than anyone he knew.

He felt... relief. He never thought he would have cried harder than he had when he felt fresh air enter his lungs after being stuck alone in the mine. It wasn't until the faintest of sunlight filtered through the window when his eyes finally fell, a dimly lit room the last he saw before he fell into his deep slumber.

The dreams in his sleeping visions were horrid, flashbacks of being stuck in dark tunnels, running and running and running, only to find nothing but the faces of the deceased whose bodies were trapped forever. An image of himself appeared, covered in head to toe in blood, wild eyes unseen, a pickax, dripping with liquid.

**"Kill them."**

When he awoke, sunlight was settled directly on his face, stirring him from the deepest sleep he'd had in the longest time.

As he came out of the sleepy vibe, he realized that the woman wasn't next to him anymore, panic escalating inside of his chest. He awkwardly stumbled out of her bed, struggling to get his pants onto his hips before quickly going downstairs, trying to prepare himself for the worst.

To his surprise, the woman was making a meal, the smell of cooked vegetables wafting around the room. When she noticed him, she smiled and greeted him. Was he still... dreaming?

She offered him food and he accepted, hoping that if this were a dream, then it would be nice if he could sleep just a bit longer and enjoy a scene of normalcy. The woman joined him after preparing her own plate, and for a moment, Harry wanted to pretend that she was his woman, sharing a normal routine, eating together at the table. Somehow, it made him feel a pang of sadness.

Harry spoke up, expressing his gratitude with sincerity. She was a very kind woman and she would make a lucky man or person very happy someday. He watched her as she rose, taking the empty plates to wash them.

He found that his eyes wouldn't wander off away from her as she continued her tasks, somehow that feeling of wanting and sadness prodding at his heart. At least he got to hold her, in a small way, even if it was during his... mental breakdown.

The woman turned to him, catching his gaze, his name leaving her lips, so softly. So sweetly. A pang of ache made his chest feel tight. _Please don't say my name like that. I know I can't have you. It can't and won't happen_ , he thought in his silence.

But to his completely and utter surprise, the woman offered her own home as a place that he could stay, if he so wished. She did acknowledge that it was highly unusual as an offer, because he basically broke into her home... He figured she was giving him a little bit more kindness with a meal, but then would ask for him to depart immediately. That was his plan. He couldn't stay, it would be wrong.

There was no way that he could do that to her. Despite his brain saying yes, yes, yes, stay here, his voice answered her with the opposite, telling her that he couldn't do it, he couldn't take advantage of her more than he already had. Harry found that he kinda really liked her and he didn't want to impose on her any longer out of respect.

Yet she surprised him even more, that beautiful voice of hers, pleading that she, of her own volition, would like for him to stay, reminding him that he did tell her that if she asked nicely, he may do as she asked.

He chuckled. A secret wish in his mind played out in his imagination, imagining kissing her, holding her close. He couldn't do that, but he could be around her a little longer and that was more than enough. It had been such a long time since he had felt any kind of warm emotion like that, a genuine smile, directed at him.

So, he accepted, thanking her for her kindness, once again. All she had asked of him was that he didn't wear his gas mask again, a funny request for him, but it wasn't something he needed. He held onto it because it was his final lifeline. He felt connected to it.

"I don't even know your name," he uttered his thoughts aloud, but before he could go on to ask for it, she gave it to him on her own. The most lovely name he had ever heard, finding himself becoming more and more drawn into her.

Harry had found a home. Permanently, he wasn't sure. All he knew was that despite the terrible events he had gone through, he had found the tiniest bit of relief in an old house in the outskirts of a small town.

It was a night he would never forget.

Yet, despite so...

Something hungered inside. Something like pain, anger and hatred, doused his soul made of violent flames. Something inside became an itch that couldn't be scratched. A thirst for revenge.

**Author's Note:**

> Pt. 3, coming soon


End file.
